e sure you do know which way the trains
come--and don't walk on the line near the tunnel or near corners."

"Trains keep to the left like carriages," said Peter, "so if we keep to
the right, we're bound to see them coming."

"Very well," said Mother, and I dare say you think that she ought not
to have said it. But she remembered about when she was a little girl
herself, and she did say it--and neither her own children nor you nor
any other children in the world could ever understand exactly what it
cost her to do it. Only some few of you, like Bobbie, may understand a
very little bit.

It was the very next day that Mother had to stay in bed because her head
ached so. Her hands were burning hot, and she would not eat anything,
and her throat was very sore.

"If I was you, Mum," said Mrs. Viney, "I should take and send for the
doctor. There's a lot of catchy complaints a-going about just now. My
sister's eldest--she took a chill and it went to her inside, two years
ago come Christmas, and she's never been the same gell since."

Mother wouldn't at first, but in the evening she felt so much worse that
Peter was sent to the house in the village that had three laburnum trees
by the gate, and on the gate a brass plate with W. W. Forrest, M.D., on
it.

W. W. Forrest, M.D., came at once. He talked to Peter on the way back.
He seemed a most charming and sensible man, interested in railways, and
rabbits, and really important things.

When he had seen Mother, he said it was influenza.

"Now, Lady Grave-airs," he said in the hall to Bobbie, "I suppose you'll
want to be head-nurse."

"Of course," said she.

"Well, then, I'll send down some medicine. Keep up a good fire. Have
some strong beef tea made ready to give her as soon as the fever goes
down. She can have grapes now, and beef essence--and soda-water and
milk, and you'd better get in a bottle of brandy. The best brandy. Cheap
brandy is worse than poison."

She asked him to write it all down, and he did.

When Bobbie showed Mother the list he had written, Mother laughed. It
WAS a laugh, Bobbie decided, though it was rather odd and feeble.

"Nonsense," said Mother, laying in bed with eyes as bright as beads.
"I can't afford all that rubbish. Tell Mrs. Viney to boil two pounds of
scrag-end of the neck for your dinners to-morrow, and I can have some
of the broth. Yes, I should like some more water now, love. And will you
get a basin and sponge my hands?"

Roberta